Holding On
by Aerial312
Summary: A six part look at Annie's recovery from the shooting. Starts right where 3x09 left off.
1. Ice Chips

Note: I am a sucker for medical stories. This series is very similar in places to my long West Wing fic "Gravitation is Not Responsible", because the injury is so similar. I did a ton of research for that story when I wrote it six years ago, and it made writing this one go very smoothly.

Auggie sat in what was quick becoming his usual spot at the side of Annie's bed. He found her hand and laced their fingers together, squeezing tightly.

"You scared the hell out of me, Annie."

It had taken the doctors nearly ten minutes to get her heart going again after Lena's attempt to smother her. Auggie had never felt so helpless. All he could do was stand there, just out of the way. He was vaguely aware of Joan's presence at his side, holding his shoulder, but it was all kind of a blur. Ten minutes doesn't usually seem like a long time, but when your best friend's heart is not beating on its own, it is unbearable.

He'd let out a huge sigh of relief when he first heard the blip-blip, blip-blip of her heartbeat returning. Beside him, Joan audibly did the same. The doctor was quick to warn them that it was too soon to tell what the lingering effects of the incident would be. Once again, they had to wait and see. Joan had excused herself shortly after they spoke with the doctor. With Lena on the run, she had to get back to headquarters to update Arthur and help coordinate the capture, however unlikely that was at this point.

So Auggie was alone again, sitting in this uncomfortable chair, clinging to Annie's hand. Man, he was tired. How long had it been since he'd slept? He'd grabbed an hour here or an hour there in the awful, hard plastic chair he was currently sitting in, but he hadn't really slept in the—he pressed his watch, "4:45pm"- 48 hours since he'd gotten the phone call from the hospital. Auggie put his other arm on the railing, and lay his head in the crook of his elbow. He was out in less than a minute.

It was the pressure on his hand that woke him up some time later. Groggily, he burrowed his head deeper into his elbow. He felt it again, harder this time, and his sleepy brain finally registered what he was feeling. Annie was squeezing his hand. His head popped up, facing her, and he squeezed back.

"Hey…" he said, stroking her wrist with the hand that just seconds ago had been his pillow.

"Aug…" She couldn't get out the rest, and just squeezed his hand hard instead.

It was just the first syllable of his name, but it choked him up and he had to take few breaths to try to calm back down. He wasn't very successful. She was awake. And she recognized him, which wasn't a guarantee after all that she'd been through in the last two days. He couldn't stop the tears from coming.

"Don't…" she rasped, "…cry…"

He chuckled through his tears. "They're happy tears," he insisted, pulsing her hand in his. "You're awake. You haven't been awake while I've been here yet, and after… You had me scared." He bowed his head, swallowing hard.

"Aug…" She took a frustrated breath.

It dawned on him. "Your throat is too dry to talk." She pulsed his hand in affirmation. "I should have realized. Let me get the nurse."

It pained him to let go of her hand, however briefly. The nurse came and gave them a cup of ice chips. She explained they were holding off on anything more substantial, to not tax her system too hard yet. The young nurse asked if he was okay to give them to her himself, and she sounded busy, so he nodded. She'd been great to him so far, so he could figure it out. And then she was gone, leaving Auggie holding the cold cup.

"Uh…" he crossed in close. "This is gonna be awkward." He reached out, gently trying to find her face. His knuckled brushed up the side of her neck, and she giggled. She was quite ticklish, he remembered. "Sorry." His hand found her lips, and she nipped his fingertip. He laughed out loud. These small gestures—so normal and fun—were doing a great deal towards making him feel like she was going to be okay. He set down the cup at her side, and brought an ice chip over to where his other hand rest at her mouth. She took it gratefully. "More?" he asked.

"Mmmhmm, " she murmured. They repeated that several times. "Thank…you."

Her voice wasn't nearly as raspy, but she still didn't have a lot of breath. The nurse had prepared them for that. Now that Annie was awake, they could bring in the respiratory therapist soon to improve her breath capacity.

"You good?" he asked. "One…more." He fed her one more ice chip and set the styrafoam cup on the tray table. "How are you doing?" he asked, leaving one hand on her cheek, while lacing the fingers of the other hand through hers once again.

"Tired," she said, squeezing his hand with less vigor than before.

"Don't feel like you have to try to stay awake on my account. Right now, the most important thing you can do is get the rest you need. You've been through a lot, and the next few days are gonna be tough. If you need to sleep, you sleep."

"Okay…" Her tone was a bit of a protest.

"I mean it."

"Lena?" she asked.

"She got away. Joan's on it."

Annie squeezed his hand hard. "Stay?" she asked, hesitantly, a hint of fear in her voice.

He leaned in to kiss her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you," she murmured. "You…look…like you…need…sleep too."

"Yeah, I've been a little preoccupied." He sat back in the chair. "If you wake up again and I'm asleep, just squeeze hard."

She pulsed his hand lightly. " 'Kay."

Silence fell between them, and he could hear her breathing even out. It was so good to have spoken to her, even as short a conversation as it had been. This time he put his head down with a much lighter heart. Things were looking up. He quickly drifted back to sleep, still holding on to her hand.


	2. The Incentive Spirometer

Note: 2nd chapter of 6 (and yes, they're all written). One a day through Tuesday.

TWO DAYS LATER

"So you don't want the soup?" Auggie asked softly, setting the cardboard bowl back down on the tray table.

"No…" she grimaced.

"I just thought since you're on a liquid-only diet, I'd get you some good broth at least," he shrugged

"Thank you…but…I won't …keep it down."

Auggie scowled. "I didn't realize that was a problem."

"Today…it is."

"I'm sorry to hear that." One step forward, one step back. "Your breathing sounds worse today." Silence. "You know I can't see you shrug. Or roll your eyes, whichever of the two you're doing…"

"It is," she sighed.

"Have you been using the thing?"

"The thing?" she asked, as testily as she could manage that short of breath. "The bong?"

"It's not-"

"But it…looks like—"

"It's not. What was that name? Incentive spirometer?" It was something long like that.

"That's the…name," she growled.

"I take it you haven't," he sighed, taking her hand.

She squeezed it back, hard, almost painfully so. "Makes me…cough…which makes me…puke."

"Annie…"

"I've puked…enough…today."

"But you can't breathe." No answer. He reached out, seeking her shoulder. His hand landed there and rubbed gently.

She squeezed his hand, softly this time. "It's been…a rough day…so far," she managed.

He could hear her choking up, and stroked her cheek. "What can I do?" he asked.

"I don't…know," she choked out. "This…sucks."

"It does," he chuckled. "But you've got to do what they ask you too, or its going to be worse."

"Yeah…I'm sure…you were…a model patient…when you…got hurt," she snapped.

He sighed in amusement. "No, I sure wasn't, but I learned. The doctors are usually right, even if you try to fight it."

Annie whimpered at that. This was hard. There was so little he could do to help her if she shut down like this.

"What do we need? The extra pillow, the spirometer-"

"The basin," she growled.

"Yes, the basin," he sighed. "You're supposed to cough shit up. That's the gunk that's making it hard for you to breathe."

"Get the...damn stuff."

He smiled. It was a small victory. She was still relying on a blind guy to gather a bunch of assorted stuff from who knows where in the room. And she knew it. For sure, she knew it. She was delaying the thing she didn't want to do by exploiting his disability. If it were anyone else—or any other situation—it would piss him off. But it was Annie, and she was hurting, so he gamely groped around the hospital room for the necessaries. He returned to her side a good ten minutes later holding the required pillow, basin, and incentive spirometer. Turns out they were all sitting on the other bed chair, all together. Which he was sure she knew.

"You're…persistent."

"I am," he grinned. "My persistence helped clear your name the other day."

"I know. And you…know I…appreciate…that."

"Then let's get started," he said.

"Give me…the damn…pillow."

"You hug it, right?""

"Mmmhmm"

"And the basin?"

"Close by."

"Got it."

"Auggie…" Her voice sounded more timid now, and less ornery.

"What is it?" he asked, trying not to hear it as her stalling again.

"How can…you help me…with this? You can't… see where… the yellow…dot goes…on the tube."

She was right. He couldn't. "Do you want me to get the nurse?"

"No."

He didn't think so. "You have a sense of what you're supposed to be trying for."

"It's supposed…to suck."

He chuckled. "Well, you're only hurting yourself if you don't try."

She growled softly, then instructed, "Help me…hold the pillow."

Auggie reached in and held the pillow firmly against her ribs. It was intended to provide support, the nurse who'd introduced the procedure had told them. He'd been there for it twice—always with a nurse, though she was supposed to do it hourly on her own. She clearly hadn't.

"Now take a deep breath, and blow into the thing as hard as you can," he told her, parroting the nurse's instructions.

"You make …it sound like…its easy."

"Annie…"

She inhaled as deep as she could—which wasn't very far right now- and blew into the spirometer. A coughing fit erupted. He ran his hand up and down her back till she finally coughed up a good deal of crud from her lungs. She moaned and leaned into his arm.

"Good. Breathe through it."

"It's gross. You can't…see it."

"Well, let me get another basin then," he replied, cutting off any further protestations. She wasn't getting out of this so easily. There was a stack of basins on the table, and he quickly returned to her side. "Ready."

She growled at him again, but grasped the pillow and took a deep breath—better already, he noted. She blew into the spirometer, coughing a bit, but not nearly as much as the first time. It was still a productive cough. He dutifully whisked the basin away and replaced it with a fresh one. Basin in place, she proceeded to the third attempt without argument. Clutch pillow, breathe, and blow into the tube.

"I got it!" she squealed. "I think. It's hard to tell while you're doing it."

"And you get to do it seven more times!" he added, with the same cheer in his tone. "The nurse said ten, right?"

"Yup, ten." Without a fight, she repeated the procedure seven more times. He was sure she was right about hitting the goal mark, since she sounded so much clearer.

"There," he said at the end of the tenth time. "You did it."

""Eight for ten isn't bad," she agreed.

"Not at all." He set the apparatus on the spare chair, and took the pillow from her.

"I kind of liked the pillow."

"You want it back?"

"No…" she sighed "I want to lay down."

He nodded. "How are you feeling?" he asked, once she was settled.

"Better," she admitted grudgingly.

"See?"

"It's easier with you than with the nurse," she told him.

"Yeah?"

"You rub my back and cheer me on."

He smiled. "Well, you sound a lot better. Full sentences."

"Don't disappear when I fall asleep."

"Do I ever do that?"

"No…"

"Why would you think I would today then?"

"Just stay awhile."

"I took a half day. I'm not going anywhere."

She held on to his hand and squeezed it hard.


	3. A hug

Note: In response to a comment on regarding some medical details in the first chapter, I do understand that 10 minutes would have been too long for there to be no brain damage if the "code" had continued as the show lamely showed us, with one doctor shocking away _through her gown_ and no one else. I'd like to think that there was a proper code, with oxygen, etc…

A FEW DAYS LATER

_(one week after the shooting)_

"Auggie!" Annie squealed as soon as he walked into her hospital room. "I was hoping I'd see you soon."

"I just talked to you on the phone an hour ago," he chuckled, perching on the side of her bed. "Why's the railing down?"

"Physical therapy," she told him. "A little while ago. I left it down so you could sit closer."

"Uh hunh."

She grabbed his hand, as had become customary. "Figured it was more comfortable than that chair." He nodded. "Now that you're less afraid you'll hurt me."

"I see," he smirked. He was still afraid he'd hurt her, but he was trying to let her lead on that.

"What's in the bag?" she asked eagerly.

"You're like a little kid."

"I'm bored."

"I know," he smiled. She had told him several times on the phone today. Truthfully, he was glad to see her with a little excess energy like this. It had been a tough week with pain, and breathing therapies and trying to keep food down. All seemed to be under control now.

Today was the first time he'd worked a full day since she'd been shot. He'd been working half-days—lots of comp time from lots of overtime—in order to spend as much time with Annie as possible. She'd insisted he work all day today—to aid in the search for Lena—but then she proceeded to call him hourly.

"Well," he said, lifting the bag, "I brought us soup from that deli that you like near my place." He set it on the tray table. "And several activities."

She took the bag from him. ""Sudoku. Snow Crash—I _have_ been meaning to read this, since its your favorite."

"Well, you've got lots of time on your hands right now."

"I do," she sighed, digging through the shopping bag. "A coloring book," she giggled. "Hello Kitty"

"And crayons," he grinned.

She squeezed his hand. "I actually love to color. I used to do it with my nieces all the time."

"I figured it was something a little more mindless than the Sudoku or the book."

"Thank you." Her hand slid up his arm, and she stroked it with her thumb.

He closed his eyes, relishing the moment. There had been a number of these tender moments to relish this week, and he still wasn't quite sure what to make of them. Right now, they just felt right. "We should have dinner," he said, opening his eyes. "You up for some food?"

"I am…"

"But…?"

"Let's go for a walk first," she suggested.

"With the chair?" he asked, suspecting that that wasn't what she had in mind.

"The physical therapist said that as long as I feel up to it—and I'm not alone—that I could go for walks."

Auggie sighed, his brow furrowing. "What about the IVs? You still have those, right?"

"The stand rolls. It comes with us."

"You're feeling up to another walk so soon after physical therapy?"

"I think so," she told him, rubbing his arm. "I want to show you today's progress. Why are you hesitant?" she asked gently.

"I'm just not sure it's a good idea for the blind guy to be your guide."

"Come on," she laughed. He could hear her sitting up.

"I just don't want to hurt you."

"You won't."

"I just…I can't see if you're unsteady."

"I trust you."

He sighed in frustration and paced away. He heard her swing her legs over the side of the bed, and quickly made his way back. "What do I need to do?" he asked, resigned to the fact that she wasn't going to take no for an answer.

"First roll that guy over here."

He assumed she was talking about the IV stand. He found it, and brought it around to the other side of the bed.

"Come here," she ordered. He did. "Stand right…" She grabbed his hip and nudged him to where she wanted him. "…here, in front of me. Now give me your hand."

Auggie grasped her hand in his. He heard her scoot slowly off the bed till her feet were on the ground, with the faint, but unmistakable sound of a wince.

"How are you doing?" he asked cautiously, bringing his other hand to her hip.

"Okay…okay…" She sounded less confident than he would have liked. "Just give me a second here to get steady before we move."

He tightened his grip on her hip, just in time for her to lurch forward into him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and buried her head on his shoulder.

"Annie?" he asked, alarmed.

"I'm fine," she insisted.

But she was crying. He wrapped his arms firmly around her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she mumbled into his shirt. "I'm fine."

"You're crying."

"Just hold me."

"Okay…" He did as she requested, running the heel of his hand up and down her back until the crying stopped. After a while, she lifted her head, and let go of him. She seemed fairly steady, but he kept his hands on her arms just in case. "What was that?" he asked.

"I needed a hug," she told him. "I just…" She was choking up again, and he pulled her close once more.

"Shh…it's okay. I've got you." He kissed the top of her head. "You know, you could have just told me you wanted a hug, instead of scaring the hell out of me."

Annie chuckled. "Sorry…I hadn't planned on it. I just stood here and, needed it suddenly. Your hand has been nice to hold onto, but it doesn't compare to this…" she took a deep breath. "Makes me feel very safe."

Auggie blinked hard, squeezing her hard. She was on her feet, wrapped in his arms. A week ago, they weren't even sure if she'd make it. He could feel heart beating softly against his chest. Yeah, he got it. They stayed like that for a long time in silence.

"I don't think I have enough energy left for a walk," Annie said after a while.

"I'm glad you're willing to admit that," he told her. "Need to sit?"

"Not yet." She nuzzled into his chest.

But he could feel her getting less steady, giving him more and more of her weight. "Do I need to pick you up and put you back in the bed?"

"No…"

"You don't sound so sure."

"I…not yet. I don't want to move just yet."

He chuckled. He was almost entirely holding her up now, but they were a mere step from the bed and he was confident he could easily pick her up and put her back if he had to. His arm was snugly around her torso—careful not to press too hard on the wound—and he stroked little half moons on the skin at the base of her neck. She was breathing really steadily now, and Auggie suspected that she'd fallen asleep standing up. He held on a bit longer, then scooped her up, and set her on the bed. He covered her with the blanket, and brought the IV pole back around to the proper side before settling into the hard plastic chair.

She was still more easily prone to tiring than she'd like to admit, but she was doing remarkably for a week after such a traumatic event. She needed to realize that and not get made at what she couldn't do. He grabbed his cardboard bowl of soup, and one of the plastic soup spoons. No sense in letting it get cold. The nurse could heat hers back up for her when she woke up. He settled back in the uncomfortable chair, listening to her even breathing of sleep as he ate his soup.


	4. Setback

LATER THAT WEEK

_(two weeks after the shooting)_

"Good afternoon, Ms. Walker," Auggie grinned, entering into the all too familiar hospital room. Hopefully he'd be seeing less of it soon. The doctors had said it look like they might discharge her in the next day or so, since she was doing so well.

"Hey…" she greeted him weakly. That didn't sound good.

"What's wrong?" he crossed to the bed quickly, reaching for her hand.

"Careful," she warned. "IV."

"In that hand?"

"They blew out the vein in this one. You can't see my beautiful purple blotch." At least whatever was wrong hadn't taken away the sarcasm. Still Auggie scowled something _was_ wrong. Annie grabbed his hand. "You can hold it. I just wanted to you know about the new IV"

"You haven't had an IV for days, and you're back early from physical therapy."

Annie sighed. "They wouldn't let me go. I have a fever."

His free hand shot up, finding her forehead easily (he'd gotten used to the distance between her hand and her face). "You're really warm."

"One-hundred and two last time they checked," she told him.

"That's high."

"It's come down some."

"What was it?""

"One-oh-four."

"Not good," he sighed, stroking her hair. "How are you feeling?"

"Like crap," she admitted. "I can't get comfortable. I'm all achy, and this-" she pointed to her wound, "—hurts like hell?"

"That's infected? Is that where the fever came from?"

Annie nodded. "All red and angry. They're making me wear a hospital gown again, on top at least, so they can change the bandage more."

"I'm sure you love that," he teased, sitting in the chair. She had begged to wear normal pajamas as soon as they would let her. His teasing earned him a growl. "I don't suppose you have an appetite?" he asked, eyeing the bag of dinner he'd brought. She moaned. "I take it that's a no."

"I've been nauseous all day," she sighed.

"I'm sorry," he told her, kissing her cheek.

"This sucks. I was so close to getting out."

"Hey, at least it happened here, and we didn't have to rush you back."

"I guess," she shrugged.

"What's the plan know?"

"I'm on some super powerful IV antibiotic—" she squeezed his hand with her IV-encased one. "If my fever comes down today, to at least under 100, they'll do five days of this thing, and then send me home with some strong pill antibiotic."

"That's not so bad."

"I just hope it keeps going down," she huffed in response. "I feel awful."

Auggie sighed. He really hated to see her like this. "What can I do?"

"Come sit with me. Over here."

"I don't know if that's a good idea right now."

"I can't get comfortable."

"I don't want to jostle your wound."

"You've sat with me before," she growled.

"But, it's infected."

She yanked her hand away, turned from him with a hiss.

"Annie…"

"Just go then…"

"You're kicking me out?" he asked carefully.

She didn't answer. He sat back in the chair with a sigh. He wasn't leaving. It sounded she was crying, and her really wanted to reach out and rub her back, but he didn't think that would be a good move right now with her so pissed off at him.

A few minutes later, she said, "Fine. I'll do it my way."

He heard the rail drop and her shifting on the bed. "Annie…"

"Don't get up."

Her feet hit the ground, and she hissed in pain. Instinctively, he brought his hands to her waist to steady her. "What are-?" And then she was sitting on his lap, wound-side facing out. She curled her knees up, and set her head on his chest. He cradled her there, arms around her shoulders and knees. She was still crying. This time though, he could soothe her. He was pretty sure she was expecting it. "Hey…" he kissed the top of her head. "Hey…It's all right."

"I feel awful," she cried into his shirt, "I can't get comfortable. And I just want to sleep."

"Okay."

"I'm not moving," she told him. "So don't try."

"Are you more comfortable now?" he asked.

She nodded against his chest. "Getting there."

But she was shivering. He shifted just enough to yank the blanket off the bed, and wrapped it around her. "There…sleep," he said softly.

She patted his chest and didn't say anything more. He leaned forward, resting his chin on the top of her head. He could only imagine how funny a sight they made like this, sitting together in the little hard plastic chair, with the bed empty. His own eyes were getting heavy when the nurse came in.

"That's a new one," she laughed.

"She's stubborn," Auggie explained.

"Oh, believe me, by this point, I know," she smiled.

"Do you have to wake her?"

"Shouldn't have to," the nurse answered. "I just have to take her temp. It's the ear scanner, so I should be able to do it without waking her up."

"Good," Auggie sighed. "She really needs her sleep."

The nurse nodded. "She didn't want a sleeping pill earlier, but I think she would have caved soon if her favorite pillow hadn't come in."

Auggie smiled. "Yeah…"

"You're not going to hurt her. If it hurts, she'll move."

He nodded. Easy in theory, tougher in practice.

"One hundred," the young nurse declared.

"It went down?" he confirmed.

"Yeah, she was 102 at 4:00pm. Its headed in the right direction. I know she feels like crap, but it's fairly mild as these post op infections can go. We caught it early."

"That's good, at least."

"Ring the bell when she wakes up. I need to take her blood pressure. It's been normal for days now—"

"—Even earlier today?"

"Yup. So I'm fine waiting until she's awake."

"Okay."

"Do you need anything to make you more comfortable?"

Auggie snorted. "I don't think there's much to be done with this chair. I should have just agreed to sit on the damn bed with her."

The nurse laughed. "Just ring if you need anything."

Auggie nodded. He gave Annie a squeeze, and let his chin rest on the top of her head once more.


	5. Stir crazy

TWO WEEKS LATER

_(four weeks after the shooting)_

Auggie made his way up the driveway, and through the gate with ease. He'd been so many times lately, it was second nature.

Danielle opened the side door before he knocked, and greeted him with, "She's in a horrible mood."

"Yeah?" he asked. "She okay?"

"She's fine," Danielle assured him. "Just cranky about everything because she wants to be back at work."

"That's still a few weeks off, right?"

"That's what the_ doctor_ says," Danielle said, in a tone that said Annie had other ideas.

Auggie sighed. "How are you holding up?"

"I miss my girls," Danielle admitted. "I'm so grateful that Michael's parents were there to step in and help so that I can be here for Annie. Because I am glad to be able to take care of my little sister when she needs me. I am. But, on days like this, when I'm her punching bag…you know? I know you know. I'm sure you've been on the receiving end of her moods too."

He nodded. He sure had been. At least he could give her little snippets from work to keep her happy on that front. "Well, I'm here for a while now, if you want a break."

"I would _love_ a break. Do you think I have a few hours?"

"At least."

What they didn't say out loud was that several times in the last two weeks since Annie had been home, he had stayed the night.

"Thank you," Danielle told him.

"She in there?" he gestured the living room, where they'd set up a hospital bed when Annie had first come home. The doctors said it would be easier for her to get in and out of than a regular bed.

"Oh no," Danielle hissed. "She insisted on going up to her room today. Where I can't really hear her if she needs something. I wish I still had my baby monitors."

He chuckled. "Point me in the right direction, and then go take your much needed break"

A minute later, Auggie paused in the doorway to Annie's room. Judging by no greeting, she hadn't noticed him. "Hey there."

"Hey…" she replied, surprised.

"How are you doing today?" he asked.

"Good. Bored."

"Danielle said you were in a mood."

Annie sighed and flopped back against her pillows. Auggie crossed the room, searching with his cane until he found the bed. "Sit," she insisted. He crawled onto the bed, kicking off his shoes. He settled shoulder to shoulder beside her. "I don't mean to pick a fight with her. Sometimes I can't help it. And I do really appreciate that she picked up everything to come back here and take care of me. But, sometimes she's just a little too attentive. And I just need some space to think."

He knew that Danielle smothered her with attention at times. "She just loves you. But I know you know that."

"I do." She leaned into his arm, putting her hand in his. "It is also hard to be in that kitchen," she added quietly.

"Yeah?"

"It makes me a little anxious. I don't know. Too many bad memories now." He slid his hand on top of hers on his arm. He certainly understood associating a place with bad memories. He'd been there. "I mean, I was _shot_ there. By someone I thought I could trust. And Simon…Simon died on that floor…And I'm still having a hard time with that."

"You lost someone you loved. That's hard." Auggie told her. Even though she never really answered his question about loving Simon, her silence answered it for her.

She took a deep breath. "I wasn't wrong to trust him, turns out," she said. "Lena on the other hand…I always trusted her, and I shouldn't have… "

"You should talk to someone about this," he suggested.

"I'm talking to you."

"I mean a professional."

"Look who's talking."

"I _have_ been seeing a therapist."

"Since the shooting?" she asked, surprised.

"Since Parker left. And the bar fight. Of course lately, yeah, we've been talking about the shooting. But I started going before a few months ago."

"I didn't know that."

"I still don't love therapy, but I think it helps." He had been shocked when that started to be true. But it actually was now.

"How did I not know that you were seeing a therapist?" she asked, her chin moving up on his arm as she tipped her head to look up at him.

"It's not something I advertise."

"But, you didn't tell _me_…"

"Before you got hurt, we hadn't really talked in a while," he sighed. "Not really. We were kind of distant after Barcelona. And I know a lot of that is my fault—"

"—Not just yours-"

"—But I meant it when I said I missed you."

She squeezed his arm. ""When did you say that?" she smiled. "I mean, I've inferred it, but did you actually say it out loud?"

He knew he had. When? He furrowed his brow for a moment, chuckling when he remembered.

"What?" Annie insisted.

"It was that first day in the hospital."

"I don't-"

"You weren't conscious," he told her wryly.

She curled in closer. "I've missed you too. A lot. We've sure made up for lost time in the last few weeks," she said.

He slid his arm around her shoulders, letting her head drop to his chest. "There's the silver lining."

"I don't know if I want to still live here anymore once Danielle goes back to California," Annie told him after a few minutes of comfortable silence.

"You have your other place."

"But that's my safe house. And that means you can't come over."

"Oh, you want me to keep coming over?" he grinned. He had really enjoyed spending so much time with her lately.

"With your bad movies," she teased.

"I didn't know you _liked_ my movies so much," he laughed. "You could always make the current safe house your new regular place, and get a new one—or vice versa."

"I just don't want to make Danielle upset."

"She will understand," he insisted. "They eventually needed to sell the place anyways. She's holding onto it because she thinks you'll be homeless without it."

"Yeah…"

"Just be honest," he told her, stroking her arm with his thumb. "She will understand that you have bad memories after _getting shot_ in the kitchen."

"I have so many good memories too, but…"

"Talk to her. She will understand."

"She didn't understand my wanting to be back up here," she sighed.

"She can't hear you up here if you need her," he told her, reiterating what Danielle had told him.

"I love my sister, but I don't need her every second-I did when I first got home-But I don't anymore, and…"

"_Talk_ to her. Instead of just getting cranky with her, talk to her, Annie."

She sighed, wrapping her arm around his waist. "Did you bring another geeky movie?"

He pinched her arm. "I did," he grinned. "The Goonies."

"I grew up watching that!"

"Me too," Auggie laughed. "It came out when we were five."

"Go put in it and get back here."

"Yes, ma'am." He stood, and turned back to her. "A little guidance? First time up here…"

She chuckled. "It's across from the center of the bed."

"Got it." He found the DVD player, put the movie in and quickly returned to her side. She was now lying down. He lay beside her and she curled into his side, pinning him with her leg over his. Yeah, he probably wasn't going home tonight.


	6. Expectations vs Reality

Note: This is the last chapter. Thank you all for all the great feedback.

TWO WEEKS LATER

_(six weeks after the shooting)_

"Ready for a walk?" Annie asked the second his car service drove off.

He turned toward the sound of her voice, and guessed she was sitting on the front steps to the brownstone. She was still living there for the time being, lacking the stamina for a move, much to her chagrin. "What did you have in mind?" he asked, finding the front steps and sitting beside her. He folded up his cane, stowing it in his jacket, and reached for her hand, fingers brushing her arm in the process. He was glad to see she had a coat on—it was kind of chilly today.

"Let's get dinner. You didn't bring any."

"I was kind of hoping we'd order pizza," he grinned.

"Come on," she sighed. "I really want to go _do _ something."

He nodded. The stronger she got, the more stir crazy she was. Her body couldn't quite keep up with where she wanted to be. She was due to come back to work in a week, earlier than the doctors originally wanted though if Annie had her way, she would have been back already.

"We can go to the Thai place. It's the closest."

It was, but it was still several blocks further than they'd made it on any of their nightly walks. They had been averaging about two blocks and back. "Okay," he agreed.

"Yeah?" she asked, surprised. "I thought I would have to persuade you."

"As long as you promise me this-"

"Ah, here's the catch."

"Just promise me that if it starts to get too much for you, you will admit it."

Annie sighed loudly in annoyance. "I can make it to the Thai place," she snapped.

"I said, okay, let's try."

"You don't believe I can," she accused.

"I didn't say that."

"Not directly."

Sometimes it wasn't worth continuing these arguments, he'd learned. It was her frustration with the whole situation doing the talking. "Come on, let's go." He stood, and tugged her up by their still-linked hands. For their walks, he took her arm, as they did at work, and let her be his guide, so he didn't need his cane. They walked the first block in silence. He presumed she was still miffed at him. Her hand still rest on top of his on her arm. She wasn't mad enough not to do that.

"Any news from work?" she asked, partway down the second block.

"More of the same. Leads that turn out to be nothing."

"I can't wait to be back and helping to track her down."

"You know Joan and Arthur are going to be keeping on a fairly tight leash for a while."

"They don't trust-"

"Arthur maybe, but Joan and I are behind you, you know that."

"I know _you_ are," she sighed. "I've been…out for so long…I just want to get back into things. Lena set me up. She…shot me. She killed Simon. And I want to be able to…help catch her."

"And we just want you to do it safely and not push too hard." He didn't acknowledge the breathlessness he was starting to hear in her voice as they crossed into the third block. He was pretty sure that, despite his earlier entreaties, she wasn't going to admit defeat. She was too stubborn for that. At least she would get to rest a while at the restaurant. And if he had to, he could carry her. It would be a little precarious, carrying her and managing his cane, but he'd manage.

"It's starting to get cold," he commented, keeping the conversation light and veering it away from work.

"I want it…to stay warm…a little longer. I missed the end…of the warm weather."

"Hopefully we'll have a mild winter again."

They had crossed into the fourth block. The Thai place was on the main road, another block further on. She was breathing hard now, her hand getting tighter and tighter on his. Was she trying to get him to make her stop and take a rest, all to avoid admitting it herself? If she was, it was working. Their pace had slowed considerably, and he was just about to ask if she needed a break, when finally, she paused. "I need…a minute."

"Okay," he said, glad she had admitted it. He held tight to her arm. "Is there a place for you to sit?"

"No…"

"I've got you," he assured her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

She leaned into him, putting her head on his shoulder and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. He ran the heel of his hand up and down her back. After a bit, she hissed, "Well, you were…right. Happy?"

"Come on, Annie!" he sighed. "No, I'm not happy. I don't care if I'm right. I just want you to be okay."

She hit his chest with her hand in frustration. "When is this…going to get...easier?" she growled, choking back a sigh.

"It is," he told her, rubbing her back. "You're making it further, and catching your breath faster and-"

"Not fast enough."

"You were shot, and you had major surgery. Six weeks ago. That you're doing this well already puts you ahead of the curve! You heard the doctor say that. This takes time. You can't just snap your fingers."

She sighed, tapping her head against his chest. "I wish I could."

"I know," he kissed the top of her head. He was still holding her up quite a bit. "Are we continuing on or turning back?" he asked after a long silence.

"I don't know," she said quietly. "The restaurant is closer, but…"

"You feel lousy now."

"Yeah," she admitted.

"Well, we can stand here as long as you need to." She grumbled in response to that, so he continued, "but, how about this? We go to the restaurant, and get you some tea. If your appetite comes back after you've had a chance to sit, great. If not, we'll get something to go."

" 'Kay," she murmured, taking another deep breath into his shirt before standing back upright. He took her arm again and they started down the final block. "I'm a little worried about the five blocks back," she admitted, grudgingly.

"If we need to stop every block, we stop every block," he told her. She groaned. "Hey," he stopped for a moment. "You know that if I have to, I can carry you."

"I know," she replied, patting his arm. "I hope you don't have to, but thank you."

They continued on, the sounds of the main road getting louder. "Made it," he declared with a grin. "Ready for some tea?"

"I would really like a Singha," she sighed. He chuckled. Of course. "I haven't had a beer in six weeks," she said.

"Then have a beer," he told her.

"No argument?" she asked, surprised.

"You're not on pain meds anymore," he shrugged.

"No…"

"Did you i_want_/i me to protest?"

"You think I can handle a beer?"

"I think it increases the chance I'm going to have to carry you home," he smirked, "but if you want one to relax, go for it."

"You've got my back," she smiled.

"Always."

She squeezed his hand. "Let's eat."

No, she wasn't 100%, but she was getting stronger and stronger every day. They were heading back to normal, whatever that meant, though he suspected their increased closeness during her recovery had created a new normal. They walked into the restaurant holding onto each other's hands.


End file.
